Flower and Thorn
by indigo velvet
Summary: Post-Beauty. While staying in a river-town near the Remalnan border, Flauvic meets an orphan girl who dreams of learning magic and begins to teach her...strangeness ensues...my first fic
1. Dreams of trees and magic

_It seems strange to write this now, look back on everything that my life used to be and see how it's changed…I wonder, sometimes, if anyone will read this story, if it will change lives someday, the way another's story changed mine._

I found the book in the gutter. Curiosity made me pick it up, but I hardly looked at it then, just slipped it into my bag and kept walking. I was already late for school.

That night, I stayed up too late, drawn into the stiff, yellowed pages filled with slanting, crabbed writing. When the orphanage lights when off, I crept to the window to read in the dim glow of moonshine and the street-lamp's feeble orange flame. It wasn't until the sky was grey-pink with dawn that I turned the last page and crept back to my bed. I dreamed of names then, and, sleeping, matched them with faces.

_Meliara. Vidanric. Galdran. Russav. Flauvic._ I could feel them in my mind, bright, unattainable jewels. What would it be, to learn magic, have adventures, fall in love? And how could I ever learn when I was stuck, an orphan. I would grow up to be just like everyone else in this tiny river town, small-minded and incurious. How many times had Matron Springley scolded me for daydreaming?

But sometimes I felt that the dreams were all that kept me alive.

"Get back here, Thorn, you little bitch!"

I ducked into the alley, heart racing, and wished that I could control my tongue. Calling Matthew a sadistic moron to his face was probably not the smartest thing I'd ever done. Even if he didn't know what sadistic meant, he'd understood the moron part just fine. I scampered though litter and old, brown leaves, breath already coming too fast. He was going to catch me. I tried to swallow the fear in my throat before it choked me. The sky was getting dark. Even if I got back to the orphanage without a beating from Matthew and the rest of his gang, I'd still have Matron Springley to deal with.

I slid in between two houses, climbed over a fence and half-jumped, half-fell into someone one's flower patch. I heard shouts from the alley.

"When I catch you, I am going to cut out your tongue!"

I opened on the other side of the yard, slipped through it. I could still hear Matthew yelling in the alley, and now I couldn't remember what I'd been afraid of. He hadn't even figured out that I'd climbed the fence.

"Moron," I whispered over my shoulder. I walked to the end of the lane I'd stumbled into, hardly more than a gap between two rows of houses. At its end, a stairway led down to the river, dark as the overcast sky. The sound of the water carried away Matthew's shouts.

It was still. It was very dark.

Something shifted in the shadows, and I spun around.

"What's this?" asked a disembodied whisper. I tried to step back, found only air behind me. The stair.

"Don't be afraid." A shadow stepped from the wall, a deeper dark against the dark houses. "Come closer, little dyranarya." Not a harsh voice, or an unpleasant one. I took half a step.

"Who are you?" My voice wouldn't go above a whisper. The silhouette wavered against the houses, grew larger, closer. The sky was too dark too see, and I could imagine a web of black velvet, closing, blocking off light and air until…

"I am called Siamis. Come with me, child. I can show you things you'd only dream of here." A hand reached out for mine.

"Come with me to Norsunder." His fingers closed around my wrist. I felt the net of darkness tighten until I couldn't breathe and something exploded behind my eyes.

My scream cut the darkness, slashing it to moonlit ribbons as I threw myself backwards into space. I had just enough thought left to roll into a ball before I hit the steps.


	2. Moonlight on the river

Flauvic

I looked to the sky and thought that I could reach out and take the stars in my hand. In the darkness, the river became a swathe of silk, patterned with moonlight and shadow. Water rippled like the skin of some strange beast.

I shook my head, feeling the breeze against my face. So strange still to see light instead of sense it, walk on two legs, feel wind blow through hair instead of leaves. Not that there had been so much wind in Athanarel's throne room.

Four small punts were tied to the jetty where I stood. I should take one now, be far away from this forsaken river-town by dawn. The river would take me halfway to Sles Adran.

I leaned against a crumbling wooden post, watched the moon's reflection in the water. Ripples distorted it, until I could see in the water a laughing face, water twisting like tangled braids around it. I could still imagine her laughter. Not that I was thinking of it.

I pried a piece of wood from the post, tossed it into the water, which carried it quickly away. I looked to the sky, pretending that I was still enjoying the night.

It was growing cold. The sooner I got away from here, the better. I was sick to death of Remalna, of Merindar, of all its associations. Maybe I wouldn't go to Sles Adran. After all, it wasn't as if I had any real reason to. Except Fialma, but I could happily go without seeing her, dear sister though she was.

Then a scream tore the air, thin with distance. I spun around. A stone stair led down to the pier. At its top, shadows moved, split apart, and something tumbled down the steps.

I loosened my knife in its sheath, took a step forward, straining to see, as something—no someone, the figure was human—fell.

I watched tensely, struggled with myself for a moment, stepped forward to catch the girl.

Wide amber eyes blinked up at me, cloudy with the fall, and I thought I felt the remnants of a spell clinging to her, but if anything was there, the night wind blew it away. She drew a breath.

"Flauvic Merindar."

The words were no more than a whisper, but I stiffened as though she'd shouted. How could she know me? Her face showed nothing except surprise and shock, maybe from her fall, and as I tried to articulate a question, her eyes slipped shut, unconscious.

What now? I stood for a moment, faltering, then carried her to the boat, put her in it. I stood for a moment, looking down at her. She was very young, thirteen maybe, small and too thin. A tangled mass of hair the color of a new copper coin framed a cat-like face. I looked back, to the stair.

I couldn't leave her here, not without knowing how she'd recognized me when I'd never come to this place before, given no one here my name. I thought of the magic I'd felt, the distant cry.

I jumped into the boat and cast off. It was definitely time to be away from here. Answers could come later.


	3. Questions

A/N: hmmm....sorry if this is slightly disjointed; I'm writing it in between exams and my brains full of rational equations and Sumerian conquerors. But please read it and review anyway!

Thorn

I woke up with an awful headache and the memory of an odd dream at the back of my mind. I opened one eye, not very enthusiastically.

And he was still there. I groaned and shut my eyes again, trying to reconcile this scene with reality. In the distance, someone cursed. I sat up a little and opened my eyes for the second time.

We were sitting in a tiny rowboat. The front bench was digging into my back. Flauvic—he had to Flauvic. Who else could he be?—was leaning over the side of the boat, trying to reach one of the oars. The other was resting precariously on the side of the boat, dripping riverweed onto my shoes. Flauvic cursed again.

"You're sitting the wrong way around," I said, and he jumped like a startled cat. The boat rocked.

"What?" he asked, blankly. I sighed and squirmed until I was sitting on the bench instead of leaning against it, which was slightly more comfortable.

"You're facing the wrong way. You're supposed to face the back of the boat when you row." He just looked at me. He was soaked. I wondered how long he'd been struggling with the boat. I wondered if he'd even rowed a boat before. He didn't move.

"Who are you?" I asked, and he looked startled.

"I was under the impression that you knew." No tone, no double meaning that I could hear. He was being cautious, not telling me anything if there was a chance that I might not already know it. What was he doing here? He was, very definitely, human.

"I thought you were a tree," I said, and realized that that made no sense. "I mean, I thought you were supposed to be a tree. If you're you, that is." There was a long pause.

"I see," he finally said. His voice was soft, pleasant, trained for singing, and uttering maddening because it told me absolutely nothing about what he was thinking. "And how did you know me?"

I took a deep breath. In a past life, which had ended when I woke up on this moonlit river, I had been rather good at lying, in an Oh-no-Matron-_I_-wasn't-the-one-who-tied-your-stockings-into-knots kind of way. Now I didn't know if I could even make the truth sound true. My head was pounding and I knew that Flauvic had noticed my hesitation. I put my head in my hands, pushed my hair back from my face. It had gotten horribly tangled somehow. I tried to swallow the knot in my throat.

"I read about you in a book," I said, and my voice seemed lost in the night. I thought that maybe my vocal chords had tied themselves into knots.

"Interesting book, to write a description accurate enough that you would know me on sight. Care to continue?" He may have spoken with a courtier's voice, but I could still recognize the sarcasm. I resented it.

"Why bother, if you're not going to believe me anyway?"

He didn't bother replying, just gave me a small smile.

"It's true, anyway. I did read about you—and then when I fell down the stairs I just—well, I knew who you were because you couldn't be anyone else. I just didn't think it through that way. I knew."

Still no expression on his face. He didn't speak. I bit my lip. He was trying to outwait me, holding his words behind that court mask until I had to speak again.

_Well, two can play that._ I crossed my arms, clenched my teeth and determined not to say another word.

And he saw me, recognized the thought in my mind somehow. And laughed.

"Well, I doubt that that's all, but I'll assume you're not a Norsundrian spy for the moment. I don't think you mentioned your name?"

I tried to catch up to his change in mood, not knowing whether he really believed me or was just confident enough to wait a while longer for answers. Hadn't he played by his own rules before? How much had he changed from the lord of Meliara's tale?

"I'm called Thorn," I said. "Where are we going?"

He shook his head, golden hair catching the moonlight. "I'd thought of going to Sles Adran, but I haven't really decided yet."

"And why aren't you a tree?"

He smiled pleasantly. "It's my turn for a question now. Who are you?"

I stretched my legs out in the bottom of the boat, beginning to enjoy this game. "That's not fair. You didn't really answer my first one, and you've had more than your fair share of questions anyway." A cloud drifted across the moon. Flauvic was still laughing softly.

"Very well. I hardly know how or why I'm human again, but I suppose it was the Hill Folk's doing. More than that, I can't say. Who are you?"

I sighed.

"I told you my name, and I don't see why I should play fair if you're not going to."

"Humor me. I don't plan on returning to there—" he gestured back upriver, towards the town we'd left "—anytime soon, and I'm afraid you'll have to come with me. I don't want my name lying around, you see." I couldn't see his face, but his voice sounded sorry. "So I want to know where you're from."

"Aren't you nice," I muttered, feeling annoyed. It wasn't as if I really wanted to stay there, and he hadn't exactly held a knife to my throat, but—I sighed. He might have at least given me the semblance of a choice about coming with him.

"Well?" I thought about not answering him, but that was a sulky child's response. I sighed.

"I'm an orphan, never knew my parents. And…I don't know…there's hardly a lot to say." Thirteen years spent in that town, and they boiled down to two-and-a-half sentences. Flauvic nodded, maybe understanding a little. Hadn't he been sent away when he was small, to keep him safe from Galdran? I couldn't remember. I tried to think of another question.

"Where did you learn magic?"

I thought he jumped a little, but maybe it was the boat jarring itself against a rock or half-submerged log. He was silent for a moment.

"In Nente. Sles Adran. I had permission and books from the Council of Mages first…later I studied with a Norsundrian sorcerer. Why do you ask?"

I didn't think, answering his question with another.

"Can you teach me?"

A/N:

ShannonLynn: Thanks; I'm glad you like it. Keep reading!

Felsong: Thanks for reviewing; glad you're enjoying it so far. I guess it is kind of confusing right now anyway, but hopefully it will get better.


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